“2 days ago {3 days ago, as you’re reading this post} I was replying to a post of yours…. a very delectable, very beautiful, set of pictures… I had no idea that you’d reply to me, let alone helping me set up my page; so I wanted to thank you. And yeah….your posts have done nothing but get me absolutely fucking -wound-….the thought of you being alone in your office till 5…wow…I’ve got a whole load of naughty ideas…”

Whoa, reverse. Back up. 4 days ago, Subtle Release started reading my blog. Bouncing around between recent and archive posts and leaving a few comments. So I checked out his blog, his very new blog, and left him a comment about his post and thanking him for the very nice compliments he left on mine. He alluded in his reply comment there that his frustrated state might be caused a bit by me. The next day I found another post, praising the beautiful and geeky women he found through HNT. Beautiful and geeky? My kinda girl! Share the link, please! Well….

“Pictured This one as a top down view while I ran my tongue over your pussy, making your back arch”

Oh. My my my…. *blush*

So I decided to reply via email to his most recent comment on another archive post. We flirted a bit and I gave him information, how-to, and advice on the blog he started. Walked him through a few basic WordPress settings. Next day, more of the same. I was summoned to the downstairs office to cover the desk, and found that the only remaining person working was likely gone the rest of the day at meetings. I found myself looking at an hour there all alone. Now, you -know- the sorts of things I get up to when I’m alone there. So I fill him in briefly. Smart boy, asks if I have gotten out my bullet vibe yet. No, wasn’t feelin it….Shame, no? He asks if I would mind if he left me a voicemail through gmail. Hmmm…no one has ever done that before…what followed was what you read above.

His voice quiet and low, he seemed mildly unsure of himself….it was cute. I could tell when he paused to smile. Which words were just flowing without forethought, and which words were emphatically, deliberately stated. It made me smile. Second listen, it made me wet. 75 seconds was the length of that message. 75 seconds to make my pulse race. 75 seconds to hook me and hooked I was. I wanted more.

Spurred on, he recorded another, longer one. Detailing a short fantasy brought on by some photos of mine. I sat there all alone, quiet office, his voice heavy with lust was pouring out of my speakers. What caused my hand to quickly slip below my dress pants and dip into my sloppy wet cunt was the first catch in his voice. A nanosecond pause, intake of breath. Then a few stumbled words. 2 seconds of heavy breathing. While I could not be certain, it sounded as if he were stroking his cock while speaking to me. THAT did it. Vibrator out, pronto. I replayed a few sections, listened to the telltale signs, pressed that bullet vibe to my clit. While I was sitting back, lost in the quiet of my own thoughts……the door opened. Thankfully I had closed the glass door to drown out the hallway noises, but it only afforded me a 2 second cover-up time. Faster than lightning I yanked my hand out of the front of my pants, as I spoke to my coworker (higher-up, funny older lady, but who could get me in trouble) it took me a few seconds to shut off the vibe. She had stopped in to speak to the supervisor who was out at meetings. I tried so hard not to look guilty but I think I failed. I knew my face was flushed deep with embarassment and arousal. She could have seen my hand making a hasty retreat.

Did that prevent me from finishing?

You know me….no it did not. 2 minutes later I was quietly moaning my orgasm. Breathless with wet sticky fingers. Had someone walked in at that exact moment I would have been in trouble for sure.

I praised his efforts, thanked him, and said that I would welcome more in the future. That the brief seconds where it was obvious his arousal had gotten the better of him, were the best part. I listened to the voicemails once or twice more that evening.

The next day, yesterday, was filled with teasing (words and photos) on both ends. Relentless flirting. I took delight, nay, glee in knowing that I was making him insanely crazy with lust. Every leap he took down the road of “resistance is futile” just fed me more, made me reveal a little more to get that extra ounce of desire from him. I kept seeing a voicemail notification pop up in my inbox. Damn him, he knew I couldn’t listen to them, I had no headphones. So much for him thinking he wouldn’t be able to leave such voicemails that day in between the need to stay quiet and all the conference calls he was obligated to. I brought myself to the very edge quite a few times (and ended up coming loudly in my car). Right before I left though, in a very nearly empty office, I turned up my sound and stealthily listened to his most recent voicemail. All labored breathing and whispered incantations of a man dying to come, quiet moans escaping despite his efforts. I let that reverberate in my head in the walk to my car. I arrived home to find the culmination of his efforts, finally, in one last (of 4 total) voicemail. Oh fucking hell. Hottest thing I’ve heard in a long while. An aural testament to the arousal I egged on. My ears picked up on so much that the scene painted itself in my mind.

I do not even know his name yet. I don’t know what he looks like (above the waist, heh). But still the connection was quick and electric. I want more.

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